Genesis
by commandocucumber
Summary: A shorter story about the Lone Wanderer's expulsion from Vault 101, and his first few hours in the wild and woolly wasteland...
1. Chapter 1

"_Jason…" the girl moaned, her back arched against the stark white sheets of the vault bunk._

"_Amata…" he moaned back, kissing her again. He slid one hand down beneath her unzipped vault suit and began to explore, feeling the softness of her breasts, and her taught abdomen. As he traveled lower still, she said his name again, this time more insistent. Demanding. The tone of her voice sounded out of place, and it was jarring enough to make him open his eyes._

"Wake up! Come on, wake up!" She said, shaking him.

He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. He could hear an alarm somewhere, but due to his confused state of mind, it didn't really register.

Hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him again. A shape melted out of the brightness: The brunette from his dream, looking considerably less enthusiastic about being at his bunk. She said, "Come on, you've got to wake up!"

Jason grinned, still groggy. "How weird, I was just dreaming about you…"

"Don't be a smart-mouth! This is serious!"

Jason sat up and rubbed his eyes. He stared up at his almost-girlfriend, and took in a few details: red eyes, unkempt hair, and the look of hurried terror. Something was wrong. He'd never seen a look like that on anyone in the vault. She had the body language of a spring wound up to the breaking point. He rubbed his eyes again, trying to wipe the dream from his mind. It was proving difficult, but everything about her high-strung attitude was making it plain that sex was as far from her mind as it could possibly be.

She stamped her foot, and he tried to ignore the way her chest moved. "My father's men are looking for you!" she told him, on the verge of tears, "They've already killed Jonas. You've got to get out of here!"

"What? Jonas is dead?" he stared, searching for the joke. There had to be a punchline somewhere… but then the sound of the alarms hit home, and everything changed. He sat up, suddenly wide awake. "What the hell is going on?"

"It's _your _dad. He's left the vault! My father thinks Jonas helped him escape, so he had his men…" She burst into tears, and he reached out to steady her. "My God, they killed him… They just beat him, and beat him, and wouldn't stop…"

"Oh my God..." Jason pulled her into a comforting embrace, his own thoughts racing at a mile a minute; Amata was crying. She didn't do that very often. Her tone seemed genuine enough to make it clear that something serious _had _happened. Then there was that alarm blaring in the background...

But he still didn't quite believe her. The Overseer of Vault 101 was a strict man, but Jason couldn't imagine him ordering _anyone's_ death, let alone Jonas Palmer, the vault's medical technician and upstanding citizen. It just wouldn't happen.

Amata's cries had turned to quiet sobs, and she seemed to be calming down a little.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

She pulled away and wiped her eyes. "Yeah. Don't worry about me. I'm just sorry you had to find out like this. I know Jonas was your friend." She straightened up, took a breath, and gave him a serious look. "But we've got to go, now. My father's men will be here any minute!"

"My dad can't have left." Jason reasoned as calmly as her state would allow, "The door is sealed shut."

"Not anymore apparently. But…" she took a quick glance outside the window and turned back to him; the clock was ticking, "Are you honestly telling me you had no idea your dad was leaving? He really didn't tell you?"

Jason shook his head, still trying to make the mental adjustment. Everyone knew people didn't leave the vault. It wasn't a matter of not being able to open the door, or being scared of what was on the other side. The outside world was as real to him as the pictures in Brotch's textbooks. As far as Jason was concerned, there was nothing at all on the other side. It might have been black void for all he knew, or cared. The idea that anyone, especially _James Howlett_ would want to leave the vault was…alien to say the least. What could possibly have been out there that wasn't in here? He felt a surge of hurt and anger; what kind of a man would leave his own son? Why? What could possibly be more important?

Jason barely managed to find his voice. "No. I had no idea he was planning to leave…"

He had once questioned his father about leaving the vault. The man had responded relatively harshly. _You're safe here. Stay on the Overseer's good side, and you always will be…you're here now, and it's a hell of a lot better than being up there._

There had been more to it, but whether it was the stress of the situation, or the amount of time which had passed, Jason couldn't remember what else his father had said. Suddenly the strange wording of the reprimand hit home. James had been out of the vault before…

"I'm so sorry." Amata said sympathetically. She had always been able to read him. "I'm sure he had his reasons. Maybe Jonas was supposed to explain everything to you?"

She shook her head, regaining some of her previous determination, "But it doesn't matter. I can help you escape. I have my own plan!"

"_Escape_ the _vault_? How?" Jason took a step back, reeling. His _father_ leaving was one thing. But he couldn't imagine himself walking out as well. That just… well it wouldn't happen. It was not going to happen. Why would he try to leave? Why should he escape? He'd done nothing wrong…

_According to whom? _Asked a dark voice at the back of his mind. _Amata's father? He knows you like her… and if what she said about Jonas is true…_

There were only so many nooks and crannies in Vault 101, and the overseer's hounds knew them all. Jason realized that he didn't have a choice.

"Listen." She ordered. "There's a secret tunnel that leads directly from my father's office to the exit. You'll have to hack the computer in his office to open it." She handed him a set of keys. "Use these to get into his office. That's how I always get in."

Outside the window, Jason could hear movement, and the shouts of a security guard. Amata's look said it all: it's time to go.

"Sounds like a good plan." He said. "Let's get out of here!"

She nodded and hesitated. "Oh, one more thing."

Jason took another step back as she pulled a 10mm pistol from her jumpsuit.

"Amata…" he said, giving it a sideways look.

"I stole my father's pistol." She said, holding it out by thumb and fore-finger as if it might explode, "I hope you won't need it, but you'd better take it just in case."

Jason reached out and took it, feeling the cold metal, and the unfamiliar weight. He realized that it was the first time he'd ever held a real weapon. One capable of killing. One _made _for killing…

He didn't know how to use it. His father had trained him how to shoot a BB rifle, but he'd only ever used it to clear radroaches out of the lower levels. Using it on another person was…unthinkable…

"Thanks Amata. I'll only use it as a last resort. I promise." He told her honestly, slipping it into a pocket.

"Okay." She said, "I'll try and meet you at the exit. Watch out for security. Good luck!"

"Yeah." Jason said as she headed out. "You too."

She disappeared out the door, saying, "I'll meet you at the vault door if I can, but don't wait for me!"

Jason took a moment before setting out after her. He scanned the vault, trying to piece the world back together in a way that made sense. He found himself reaching for the familiar, grabbing his Grognak comic book and baseball glove.

_What use is that going to be? _The dark voice asked, but Jason was too busy to take notice. He picked up his baseball bat, along with his BB gun, and the small tin of lead pellets. As a last thought, he pulled his baseball cap from the drawer and turned for the door. His father had installed a first-aid kit on their bedroom wall. Jason emptied it; ten Stimpaks, and a few Med-X… Not much, but it was a start.

* * *

**This'll be a three or four parter depicting Jason's expulsion from the vault, and his first experiences in the wasteland.**

**As of posting this, I actually don't quite know what would be an appropriate place to end it. Let me know if you have any thoughts. I was hoping it wouldn't be more than his first day or two, but how far should he get in that time? Not very, probably…**

**I know not everyone is a fan of Straight-From-The-Game dialogue, but I find changing things too drastically really bugs me (only when I do it, that is.) I try to be as accurate to the game as possible. **


	2. Chapter 2

Genesis 2

As soon as Jason stepped into the concrete hallway, he heard a voice shout, "I found you! Stop right there!"

Jason froze. A helmeted security guard was standing at the intersection; his intended destination.

"Don't move!" the man ordered, raising his baton threateningly. Less than a second later, they both heard the papery sound of insectoid wings. A swarm of disgusting brown bugs, each the size of a dinner plate, flowed from a different branch of the intersection and attacked the guard.

Jason took the opportunity to dive through a side-door into the men's communal washroom. He closed the door and leaned against the cold wall, taking a breath.

Radroaches! Normally they were a minor nuisance, appearing only in the lowest maintenance areas of the vault, and never in those numbers. Jason had killed three or four of them over the years, the first on his tenth birthday no less. The swarmed which had attacked the guard had contained eight or nine alone. How could _that _many get into the vault? It was supposed to be sealed. Airtight.

_The same way dad got out…_That hateful voice answered. The conclusion did not bode well. Not for Jason's father, nor for his own supposed escape attempt.

Thankfully, the washroom had a second door. Jason crossed through it, as well as the women's washroom, which was sitting adjacent to it. As a matter of habit, he kept his gaze averted, eyes half-closed, while passing through. It was only after he reached the other side that he realized the act was utterly pointless as no one was using it.

The door opened, and he came face to face with someone he had been hoping to avoid: Butch Deloria. Jason hated him, from his fancy leather jacket to his immaculately styled greaser hair. Butch was a bully. Not just _a_ bully, but _the _bully. He and his gang of "Tunnel Snakes" as they liked to call themselves, had managed to make life hellish for most of the vault's other residents. Jason himself wasn't entirely sure why Amata's father hadn't brought down the proverbial hammer, but he hadn't , and they had apparently free reign over most of the small complex. Both Jason, and Amata were frequent targets. Jason braced himself for the incoming wave of insults, or worse, a citizen's arrest. But the look on the young man's face was one of incoherent desperation.

"You gotta help me! My mom's trapped in there with the roaches!"

Jason stared in shock, astonished at suddenly having the power in an exchange with the man. He mustered his thoughts and said, "Butch asking me for help. If only you knew what the word 'irony' meant…"

Butch deflated, growing surly. On the other side of the nearest wall, they could both hear his mother's pleas for help.

"Yeah, I'm asking." Butch muttered, "So what?"

Jason kept staring. The woman's cries grew more desperate.

"Look, I'm sorry for the way I've always treated you. You know I never meant any of it, right?" Butch pleaded, "But it's my mom. You can't leave her in there with the Radroaches."

"Why do _you _need help, anyway? Is Butch afraid of a few Radroaches?" Jason asked.

"Well… yeah, I hate Radroaches. So what? I tried to go back in and help her, I swear I did! But I just can't do it! So I'm begging you, please help her. I don't know what I'd do without my mom."

Jason glanced over his shoulder. The longer he was in the vault, the worse his chances of escaping grew. "You're big, they're little. Just go in there and squish them. Be a hero!"

"No… no, I'm not going back in there. I can't!"

"Butchie, help me!" his mother screamed.

Imagining what his father's expression would have been had he walked away, Jason swore and pushed past the coward, hefting his baseball bat. He crossed Butch's tiny apartment and opened the door to the bedroom. Butch's mother was standing on top of her bed, kicking desperately at three huge roaches. Jason wasted no time, bringing his bat down on them, spreading ichor all over the apartment floor. The vault's Floorsuck Auto-cleaner systems kicked in, and the goo was whisked away through the porous floor tiles, though copious amounts still remained on the carpets, and on Jason's bat.

"We did it!" Butch shouted in triumph, "My mom's gonna be okay! You're the best friend I've ever had, man!"

"Whatever." Jason made to move around him, but Butch eagerly blocked his path.

"Look, I know it ain't much, but I want you to have my Tunnel Snakes jacket. Go ahead, Take it." He slid the ridiculous leather jacket off his shoulders and passed it to Jason.

_Put it on! _Urged the voice in the back of Jason's mind, _Vault Security aren't looking for Tunnel Snakes!_

Jason obeyed, slipping the jacket over his shoulders. It was surprisingly heavy, but comfortable, and probably quite durable. "I gotta go." He said, shoving Butch out of the way and moving through the vault. He vaguely recalled Brotch talking about the wasteland being dry. Fresh water bottles were a must, which meant that the cafeteria would be his next stop.

* * *

The Vault cafeteria doors had been left wide open. Usually this was a welcome sight, the room being a place for gathering, relaxation, and good conversation, but not today. Today it was a dark and horrific nightmare A place of shadows and sharp edges. Smashed glass, plates and cutlery covered the floor. The lights were off, and did not respond, even after Jason flicked the switch.

He erred on the side of caution and readied his bat, listening carefully for the scratching sound of Radroaches. As he moved, his foot bumped against a fallen glass, causing it to rattle across the darkened floor. He cursed quietly and continued, each step causing some new noise. The entire area was covered in broken dishes and dirty cutlery.

His foot slipped on something soft. Cylindrical. It moved and compressed in a horrifically familiar way as he put weight on it. Yet it was too late to withdraw, and it rolled awkwardly, throwing him off balance. Jason landed painfully against the edge of the table and dropped to the floor, beside the dead body whose leg he tripped over.

In the years after, when he'd looked back on the moment, he had ever been proud of his reaction. Jason had screamed. A childish, strangled cry of surprise and fear. It had taken him several months in the wastes to learn that he had nothing to fear from the dead, but in the vault, at that moment, there was no greater horror in all of that tiny world.

He backed away, scrambling crab-like, dragging his bat backwards through the broken dishes, not caring how much noise he made.

The light of the hallway was a godsend, putting his situation back into perspective, but it took all of his willpower to stand and move and take his eyes off of that nightmarish dark portal before him. He pulled out Amata's pistol, pointing it into the darkness, and shuffled along the concrete wall, just as terrified of what lay behind as of what might lie ahead.

As it was, his high-strung nerves were almost certainly the cause of what happened next. He shuffled up the flight of stairs at the end of the hall. His father's medical lab was up there, along with Brotch's classroom. The two locations bespoke safety and familiarity. Perhaps even answers to Jason's sudden predicament.

What he saw was a security officer. A man in the wrong uniform. Jason panicked and pulled the trigger. He watched as the officer's eyes widened slightly, recognizing him. He watched as the clear plastic facemask shattered, turning bright red with blood. The man hadn't even offered a warning. Or raised his baton. Or acted threatening in any way…

Which made Jason's reaction nothing short of cold-blooded murder.

Jason broke out in a cold, panicked sweat, his eyes bulging as he stared down at the body. There hadn't been a murder in Vault 101 in… ever. Eighty years. It was the ultimate offense. Life was a sacred thing. Stealing, cheating, lying… they were all sins. All evil, but nothing compared to ending the life of another vault resident.

"Hey kid!" Jason's gaze snapped up to the balding mechanic. Stanley Armstrong.

"I didn't mean to!" Jason blurted out hysterically, waving the pistol. "I'm sorry!"

The technician's eyes followed it carefully. "You're the one everybody's looking for, right?" He asked, taking a calm, soothing tone.

"I didn't mean to, Stanley!" Jason burbled. "He was just there and then the gun…please don't turn me in!"

Stanley glanced down at the body and shook his head. "It's none of my business. Your dad always took good care of us…"

"So you aren't… you're not going to…"

"Not my business." Stanley said firmly. "Just get out of here. I'll tell them you did it after you left."

Jason tensed as he heard the sound of thrusters. Andy the Mister Handy robot floated into view. The robot was spinning lazily, leaning to one side in an awkward way. "Ahh, young sir." It intoned in its mechanical British drawl. "How very good to see you again. I do suppose you're looking for your father the Doctor… I'm afraid you've missed him. I believe he's gone topside for a spot of fresh air! Should be back any moment I imagine!"

"Get out of here!" Stanley urged. "Go!" he waved Jason through, drawing the boy's attention away from the corpse long enough for him to act.

Jason raced past the medical bay and up the stairs into the atrium.

* * *

Jason slowed as he neared the vault's atrium, the apex of all the different corridors and levels in the complex, with doors leading to all sorts of places, the dust and neglected hallway to the vault entrance being one of them.

The gunshot was still ringing in his ears. Gomez. It had been Gomez, he realized. The fact only made him his heart sink lower. Something he hadn't thought possible. Unbearable guilt filed him fit to burst, and he sought some method of escaping it, but couldn't' find one. Why did it have to be Gomez, the most polite, friendly, and helpful of all the officers. He had been one of Jason's father's strongest supporters. He had saved Jason from the Tunnel Snake's antics on a monthly basis.

_Anyone but Gomez…_

A woman's voice drew him out of his shell, and brought his attention back to the situation at hand. "We should just go back to our quarters."

"It's our only chance, don't you see? We're getting out of here, just like the doctor. I'm not going to let anyone stop us."

Jason recognized the answering voice. Tom Holden, which would make the female Mary. one of the vault's younger couples. Only half a decade than Jason and Amata.

Jason crept out into the atrium just in time to see Tom disappearing down the neglected exit corridor shouting "It's me, Tom holden."

"Tom! Be careful!" Mary shouted after him. She herself was standing by a pillar, caught in a moment of indecision.

To his horror, Jason saw the corridor entrance light up. Tom was gunned down by unseen officers. The man's cry of pain turned into an ugly gurgling noise.

"Tom!" Mary screamed running forwards, trying to reach her husband.

_Run! Now!_ That inner voice ordered. Jason obeyed, darting across the atrium as the gunmen were occupied with reuniting the two lovebirds. Someone had wedged a locker underneath the door leading to the upper levels of the vault. Jason charged through it and took a breath on the first landing, pausing to put a nearby radroach out of commission.

The guards had orders. Shoot to kill. And not just Jason, but _anyone _who ventured near the vault's entrance. Perhaps killing Gomez had been the right move. Where had the officer's loyalties lain? It was too late to speculate, but only at that moment did Jason realize just how dangerous his position was. Now he knew: The Overseer was playing for keeps.

* * *

**So I realized I kinda screwed the pooch on chapter 1. This is supposed to be about the beginning of Jason's transformation. Not necessarily the full story of how he became the Lone Wanderer, but at least how he learned to survive his first few nights. In the back end of Ch-1, I had him already thinking like the Lone Wanderer, and that wouldn't have happened, so tt's been fixed.**

**I also figured out where I'm going to end it. Thanks for all the input, guys. It helped a lot. **

**I wanted Jason's first encounters with death and murder to be truly affecting ones. I've seen renditions of the Escape! quest where no virtually no attention was paid to the effect the events would have on the Wanderer's mind. I hope I managed to do it justice here. **

**The next chapter will be the last one in the vault. I wanted to spend a lot of time here because this entire section is crucial to EVERYTHING else that follows, and to what shaped Jason Howlett into the Lone Wanderer.**


	3. Chapter 3

Genesis 3

A staircase brought Jason to the upper level of the Atrium. He paused a moment, watching the circular window at the far end. On the other side of the glass was his objective: The Overseer's office. He could hear the man's voice over the vault's intercom, ordering all residents to stay in their accommodations until the Radroach invasion had been dealt with.

Jason crept along the wall of the atrium, keeping low and out of sight of the two guards below. The very same ones who had so effectively finished off Tom and Mary Holden. He was so busy directing his attention alternately between the floor below, and the circular window that he didn't actually notice when he snuck past the window of an occupied suite. He jumped when the man on the opposite side smacked the glass to get his attention.

Jason recognized him as Allen Mack. A foul-mouthed, loud-spoken vault resident. One of the few who had never gotten along with the Howlett family. Jason had often wondered what would have become of himself and his father had Mack ever succeeded Alphonse Almodovar as the Overseer. In all likelihood he'd end up in the position he was now.

As it was, all the man could do was smack the glass and rage at impotently at Jason. "You! This is your fault! You and your stupid father! He had to go and leave, didn't he? He had to mess things up for everybody!"

Jason could hear Allen's muffled voice through the glass, and he glanced down at the floor of the Atrium. He took a worried step backwards; both of the murderous guards had exited the tunnel, and were standing in the center of the room, looking around suspiciously.

Ignoring Mack's angry admonitions, he stepped through the nearest door, into the harsh red light of the server room. He closed it behind him and locked it, figuring the action would buy him some time. When he turned back, he found himself staring into the shocked face of Officer Hannon, another security guard, and as just as hostile as Gomez had been friendly. Jason knew that whatever happened, the next few seconds would be life or death.

_The pistol! _His adrenaline fuelled mind supplied the easiest solution, but Jason resisted. Despite what had happened to Gomez, he wasn't a murderer. There were other concerns which he only thought about afterwards; the noise would likely alert all the other guards in the vicinity

Hannon had no such qualms. Fortunately for Jason, he had no pistol either, and instead elected to heft his black baton and rush the boy. There was lead shot in it, Jason knew. It was illegal, technically, but the Overseer had a very selective form of justice. Jason raised his baseball bat in both hands and blocked the blow as it came down. The aggressive angle, and precise nature of the strike had very obviously been intended to break his elbow. Had he been gripping the bat by the handle in the classic way, Hannon would have succeeded. But Jason had been holding it by the barrel, and was able to cover his elbow with the handle.

The impact shook his frame, and hurt his wrists, but he ignored the pain. Holding the baseball bat like a quarterstaff, he rammed the center into Hannon's faceplate, knocking the man backwards. Jason switched his grip to a more natural way, and the two of them circled, eyeing each other up.

"You're dead kid." Hannon challenged, not even bothering to hide a thirst for blood and violence.

"I just want to leave!" Jason replied, pleading. "You'll never see me again."

Hannon swung low, aiming for the boy's kneecap. Jason dodged clumsily, and slammed into one of the refrigerator-sized servers. The guard rushed forward, swinging down at Jason's head. The boy kicked out, and managed to hit the guard in the stomach as he moved forward. Hannon's swing was brought up short, and Jason could feel the wind as the tip of the deadly weapon whizzed across his vision, millimeters from his nose.

Hannon recovered rapidly, and struck again, forcing Jason to duck. The baton slammed into the metal housing of the server, making the entire room ring. Hannon managed a lightning-fast follow up, but was once again thwarted as Jason, out of pure desperation, dropped his baseball bat and charged the guard's midriff, bodily lifting the older man and ramming both of them into another server.

The impact was enough to shake Hannon's weapon away, and the two men grappled violently, sliding to the floor. Jason was younger, stronger, and more flexible. While the stiff security armour was good for crowd control, and dealing with thugs like the tunnel snakes, in a wrestling match, it was nothing but detrimental. Hannon was at least smart enough to tear his helmet off, but Jason still very quickly gained the upper hand.

Hannon did have an objective, and Jason could feel the officer's hands reaching desperately for his pocket, within which was contained the hated pistol. He rolled, trapping one of Hannon's arms under him, which left him only one to deal with. He grabbed it and trapped it in his armpit, and the two of them lay there, struggling, but locked in a stalemate which left Jason with one free arm.

Gripping the officer's midriff tightly between his legs, he felt around for something, _anything_ which would allow him to end the fight. His hand closed on a wrench, which had been left there alongside a toolbox. A body was there too, but Jason was too busy to pay it any mind. He gripped it in reverse and brought it down on the guard's head, scoring a long, deep, and bloody gash. Hannon's arm flailed blindly, trying free themselves and get control of Jason's hand before the boy could score another hit. Jason brought the wrench down again, cutting a line across Hannon's forehead. He rolled, forcing the guard on to his back, and sprang away, avoiding the flailing arms, and ignoring the cries of rage.

He once again took up his bat. The murderous guard was searching for his baton, but the blood and agony were crippling him. He found it, but was unable to act, as Jason stepped forward, bringing the baseball bat down on the man's forearm. There was a loud, nausea-inducing crack as the man's arm broke, and Hannon screamed as the agony paralyzed him. Jason stepped back and brought the bat down again, this time on the man's knees. He lifted the bloody wooden weapon, preparing for a final killing stroke, then stopped.

"I have a gun!" he panted as the guard lay there, glaring at him, but unable to move, "I could have killed you. Remember that! _I could have killed you_!"

* * *

He slowed once again, leaving the helpless guard alive, but unable to delay him any further. He knew where he was now, and he was scared; This corridor was the very headquarters of Vault Security. It was an unfortunate, but very real fact that Jason would have to sneak by in order to follow through on Amata's plan.

As he neared the barred windows of the security office, he could hear two voices: a calm, measured voice which he knew belonged to Alphonse Almodovar, the overseer, and a desperate frantic pleading voice. _Amata's voice_.

He crept up to the glass and leaned out slightly to peer inside.

Amata was seated in a chair. Her eyes were streaked with tears, her cheeks bruised, and she was leaning over slightly as if in pain. To Jason's fury, he saw that another security guard was standing over her, his hand raised, ready to strike her if she didn't cooperate. Her father was there too, obviously playing the part of interrogator.

"Be reasonable Amata," he said calmly, "Officer Mack may enjoy this, but I don't. Just tell us where your friend is so we can talk to him."

"He's my friend!" Amata replied, her voice breaking. "I was worried about him. What does he have to do with all this anyway?"

Jason felt his heart burst with pride, anger, and guilt. She had stood up for him, against her own father, and despite the security officer's very obvious beating.

"Probably nothing. Which is why I need you to tell me where he is, so I can talk to him." The Overseer said patiently.

Amata stuck out her jaw defiantly, "What are you going to do, Daddy? Beat me to death like you did poor Jonas? If you think I'll betray him, you don't know me very well!"

Her father sighed. "Very well. There's no hurry. Your friend isn't going anywhere, after all."

"You'd better talk, girlie!" Officer Mack said, raising his hand.

Jason had heard enough. Amata had withstood every danger, resisted every demand, risked everything to help him escape. She had rolled the dice and lost trying to save his life. The least he could do would be to save her in return.

He rushed through the security office door with a primal bellow, charging at Mack first. The officer barely had time to register the boy's presence before the baseball bat came down on his unprotected head, and removed him from the situation. Amata didn't wait for any kind of acknowledgment, but instead took the opportunity to burst from her chair and take flight.

Jason turned to the overseer, who had backed worriedly into a corner of the suddenly empty office. Alphonse said, "I hope you're here to turn yourself in, young man."

Jason pulled out his gun and kept it trained on the Overseer, making it clear that if he moved, he would be shot.

"You're already in enough trouble as it is. Don't make things worse for yourself." The Overseer continued severely. Jason pulled out the desk drawers and searched the rooms lockers. He lucked out and found three extra magazines for the pistol. His intentions were two-fold. He wanted to collect supplies, and also make sure that once he left, the Overseer wouldn't have any means of shooting him in the back. The man was Amata's father, after all. And as angry as Jason was, he knew that she still loved the man. He wasn't about to kill him.

He said, "Just give me the keys to your office and the password. Then I'll be going."

"Oh?" The Overseer replied acidly, "is that all? Is there anything else I can get you while you're here? You'll get _nothing _from me! I'll die before I see the safety of the vault compromised again!"

"I'll escape without your help, then." Jason replied evenly. "I'm not the one who started killing people." he pushed the image of Gomez's death to the back of his mind.

"Save your sanctimony. The world is a dangerous place and I make no apologies for doing whatever it takes to keep the vault safe."

Jason gave him one last withering look, and walked out, keeping his ears open for signs of pursuit.

He reached the administration section of the Vault, and stopped dead. Amata had not been lying: Jonas' was sprawled across the floor, clearly dead. No living human's neck was twisted that far, nor that awkwardly. The bloody pool he was lying in had had some time to dry, forming a sticky brown boundary around the corpse.

Jason moved forward slowly and crouched beside his fallen friend. The man's face was so severely beaten that he was hardly recognizable. The two of them had been drinking coffee in the cafeteria only a day before. Jonas had been discussing the growth results of some kind of bacteria. He had been pleasant company, and a decent human being, and as Jason looked upon his body, he felt none of the panic that had come with the darkness and the corpse in the cafeteria. He had known Jonas while the man was still alive, and fear had never been an aspect of his experiences with the man. He felt grief, certainly, of a subtle and quiet kind. The ruling emotion was anger, and for a moment he was regretting letting Hannon live.

He frowned. Jonas had worked with his father for two decades. Had the man known that James was going to leave? Had he been told? Had he helped James? Was that why he had suffered his fate?

Jason reached out and began patting down the man's pockets. He found a recording, miraculously unscathed, and stared down at it. Far behind him, in the security hallway, he could hear the steady patter of security boots, and a shouted conversation with the Overseer. He pocketed the disc and stepped over Jonas as respectfully as he could. He used the keys Amata gave him to open the door to her father's office. He closed the door behind him, and turned.

The Overseer's office was extravagant, by Vault standards. His desk was an enormous circular monstrosity which took up the center of the room, piled high with paperwork. The perimeter was ringed with benches and shelves. A set of lockers sat in the corner, and Jason quickly ran through them, finding more pistol ammunition, and a few Stimpaks. He wondered for a moment, why the Overseer needed such supplies for what was essentially a desk job, but then remembered Amata's interrogation, and just what kind of a man he was dealing with.

The Overseer's console was not in fact on the desk, but had been placed within a concrete embankment behind it. Jason turned the thing on and was immediately confronted with a password request. He had never been any good with electronics, being far more mechanically minded, and he typed in a few words, trying to imagine what Alphonse Almodovar would use as a password. Security, Safety, leadership, 101,VaultTec… nothing worked, and he growled in frustration, aware of the ticking clock. He began to search the desk and surrounding area when his eye fell on a modest, faded little picture. It was of Alphonse and Amata, taken a decade ago. The young girl was smiling brightly. So was the Overseer in one of the rare moments when Jason had ever seen anything but a scowl grace his features.

Jason turned back to the terminal and typed in Amata's name. The screen flashed and he was offered several options including Open Overseer's Tunnel. Yet a different option caught Jason's eye: View Scouting Reports.

His curiosity piqued, he crossed the room and locked the office door. Then he resumed his reading, as fast as he could.

_As our tests suggested, the immediate vicinity of the vault is no longer dangerously irradiated, although the background radiation is still well above safe levels. Pockets of more intense radiation appear to still be common, and all surface water seems to be undrinkable. We will need to carry ample supplies of Rad-X with us on all future surveys. But hazard suits do not seem to be necessary for general exploration._

_Our old maps are largely useless. The town of Springvale is an abandoned ruin, and all pre-War roads have disappeared or are no longer passable._

_We encountered a group of monstrous ants which appeared to confirm Mackay's theories of mutation due to extended exposure to radiation. We drove off the ants with gunfire and collected several specimens for study upon return to the vault (see Exhibit A)._

_The good news is that human civilization still survives, despite everything! We discovered a settlement known as "Megaton" (see Exhibit B), whose inhabitants, although somewhat wary at first, soon welcomed us into their town._

_We spent a good deal of time in Megaton, and learned a great deal about the "Capital Wasteland" (as the area around Washington D.C. is now called) from them. Megaton is a fortified outpost of "civilization" (of sorts), but it seems that giant ants are the least of the dangers of this new world. We agreed that it was prudent to return to the Vault immediately to revise our survey plans in light of what we have learned. Lewis and Agnes remained in Megaton to serve as "ambassadors" and continue to collect information until we return._

_Anne Palmer, Survey Team Leader_  
_February 10, 2241_

Jason felt his world crumbling. There was a world outside the vault. A world inhabited by people. Real people. Other human beings. How many other lies had the Overseer told them? How many more secrets had yet to be unburied? Had Jason's father known about this? Why had the vault remained closed? Wasn't it supposed to be opened when the outside was once again habitable? A throng of questions got caught in the crowded doorway of his mind, and he immediately downloaded all of the Overseer's entries onto his Pipboy for further reading.

He activated the secret tunnel and took a few steps backwards, unsure as to what to expect. There was a quiet noise, then the hiss of compressed air. The Overseer's desk rose high into the air, the floor below sliding back. The entire mechanism was quiet, obviously very well maintained, and Jason stared in wonder at the newly revealed staircase below.

Someone began to beat on the office door. "Open up! We know you're in there, Mister Howlett. Give it up! There's nowhere you can run!"

Jason took a few steps down the stairs, then paused, seeing a switch at the bottom. It was very obviously there so he could close the entrance behind him. He turned and emptied his entire pistol into the Overseer's circular window, sending glass fragments flying into the Atrium. It was a small opening, but not so small that a cornered and desperate criminal wouldn't be willing to give it a go. Anything that bought him a few more seconds…

He flicked the switch and watched the desk lower, and the floor close up. He was engulfed in faint red emergency lighting, and he followed the corridor until it brought him to another square room with a single switch, which opened up the far wall, and Jason found himself in the Vault door control booth. Thick layers of dust coated every surface, and the air was stale, not having moved very much in the two centuries since the door had slid shut. Jason wondered how long it had been since a human being had stood where he was standing.

The door itself drew his eye; an enormously thick door, twice his height, and the shape of a giant cog, somehow Jason got the impression it had been constructed as much for its aesthetic merits as for its practical design. The door's control panel was placed on a raised section of flooring, up a short flight of steps. The opening mechanism consisted of an enormous drill hanging from the ceiling along a set of rails.

Jason realized that he could not hear the alarm anymore, nor the Overseer's broadcast messages. He could hear nothing at all but the beating of his own heart, and the sound of his footsteps as he approached the controls. He noted the footprints in the dust. His father's, and felt reassured. He was on the right track. Someone had carefully brushed off the console itself. Jason reached out and gripped the lever firmly. He took a deep breath and pulled down. Immediately, the room shook with a low rumbling noise. Flashing emergency lights, one in each corner, began to rotate, making the room spin. Aloud, wailing alarm began blaring, and Jason glanced over his shoulder, wondering how much of the Vault could hear it.

The machine slid forwards, vibrating as it moved along the ill-maintained rail system. For a moment, Jason was worried it would seize up, and leave him stranded inside the Vault, but the overworked engine carried it through, and the drill mated neatly with a matching hole in the enormous door. The entire operation was unreasonably noisy, and the boy wished it would speed up before the guards arrived.

The mechanism groaned, and the air was filled with a harsh grinding noise as it pulled the enormous cog backwards, disturbing the layers of dust. Hot, dry air filled the Vault's entrance, disrupting its carefully regulated environment.

Then the giant door rolled aside, granting Jason his first vision of the world outside. It was less impressive than he'd imagined. An ominous cave, with curved walls and a dangerously low-hanging ceiling. He could make out a wooden door at the far end, with a light shining through it unlike any light he had ever seen before in his life. He had been born in the vault, yet it somehow felt familiar. Welcoming, almost.

The door behind him opened and he turned, reading himself for a fight. He relaxed as Amata stepped through, looking shocked. She had the presence of mind to lock the door behind her, but she was still staring into the dark tunnel as if afraid that the mere sight would contaminate her.

"My god…" she said in frightened awe, "You did it! You opened the door! I almost didn't believe it was possible!"

"Couldn't have done it without your help…" Jason replied quietly. They both stared out into the great beyond, caught up in wonder and curiosity. He took a few hesitant steps towards the entrance and stopped, fear weighing his feet down.

Amata descended the steps and joined him. She pulled him into a tight hug. "Jason, if anyone can survive out there, it's you."

Jason nodded numbly. He could see sunlight through the cracks in the distant wooden door. His first glimpse of sunlight…

"Your father is out there." She reminded him. "I'm sure you'll find him."

"Yeah…"

"Listen, if you do catch up with your dad, tell him I'm sorry. For… you know, Jonas, and my father, and everything."

Raised voices sounded on the opposite side of the door. "He's locked the door! Get the Overseer!" The security guards began to pound on the opposite side, but the door held fast.

"Come with me." Jason offered.

Amata shook her head. "It's tempting, but my place is here. The vault needs me more than you do. I'm the only one who has a chance of talking some sense into my father."

Jason nodded silently. He smiled down at her for a moment, and then pulled her into an awkward kiss. It wasn't particularly impressive, as kisses went, but it meant a lot to both of them. There was a sudden loud bang as the besieged door gave way. Two security officers charged through, truncheons at the ready.

Jason ran for the distant sunlight, and didn't look back.

* * *

**Aaaand he's out of the vault. Now that that's done, maybe I can start playing around a little. Things won't be so linear.**

**About the fight with Hannon, I'm not sure how many of you participate in martial arts, wrestling and whatnot, but unless one has been heavily trained, and is facing someone who hasn't been, hand to hand is an excessively difficult, and laborious way to fight a human being. I know that in all the "how to" videos, people are taken down very quickly, but it's all staged, and in reality no *real* fight is ever as clean as that, nor as easy.**

**It's reasonable to assume that vault security have some basic training in how to use their batons and guns, but it's also reasonable to assume that they've been rather slack over the centuries. In such a small community, crime wouldn't really a big issue, and they'd likely not have very many opportunities to practice their skills. Thus the weapons would likely be there more for intimidation than anything else.**

**A few people have said that a straight re-telling is boring, but there's not all that much you **_**can**_** do to the opening sequence without drastically altering **_**everything**_**. Most of the changes would be pointless in any case.**


	4. Chapter 4

Genesis 4

Jason threw open the cracked wooden door and for a fraction of a second he had a vision of an endless blue abyss hanging over his head, before he cried out in surprise as light and warmth enveloped him. It blinded him, it's crushing weight forcing him to his knees. He threw his hands across his eyes, desperately trying to protect them from the endless fire.

The Vault had been outfitted with Simu-Sun lighting, supposedly designed to mimic the feel and brightness of sunlight. How wrong they were! How utterly and inconceivably wrong they were! How had they thought it would _ever _compare? Sunlight, _real_ sunlight, wasn't just light. It was a physical force! It had weight! It had heat! He could actually feel the temperature difference between his exposed skin and those areas lucky enough to be covered up. The heat was sweltering. Burning!

Blind, Jason scrambled backwards into the cool shelter of the cave. He sat there, lying back against the curved wall, letting the shadows sooth his skin, and the purple veil clear from his eyes. He looked back at the shadowy cog-shaped door. 101 was emblazoned upon the front in bright yellow letters. Jason got to his feet, relishing the feel of _real _dirt crunching beneath his shoes. He walked back to the door and put his hand against it, feeling the comfort of the cool metal against his palm. His foot crunched on something round, and he flicked on his Pipboy light to reveal the barren skeleton lying next to the vault door control panel. For some reason, it did not drown him in horror and disgust the way the body in the Vault cafeteria had. This skeleton had not been human in two hundred years, and that chronological difference made it an artifact instead of a person. It wasn't the only one in the cave, either, Jason realized. There were several lying around, along with some signs. The thick black lettering was faded, but still visible: 'We're Dying, Assholes!', 'Let us in, Motherfuckers!', 'Help us!'. He glanced up at the security camera. No doubt Amata's dad was watching him through it. He reached down and tested the vault door controls, not sure what he was expecting. They had no effect whatsoever. Clearly a password was needed.

Going back in was not an option. Besides… Dad was out here…

Jason turned back towards the light and strode forward carefully. Keeping himself in the shadows, he pushed open the door, and watched the stream of light flow into the tunnel, given shape by the constant dust cloud which even now was making him thirsty. He carefully stuck his fingers in the light, playing with the feel of the heat and cool shadows on his skin, and getting used to the strange warm blanket which coated everything the sun touched. He grew bolder as he played, sticking his whole hand in. Then both hands. It would take getting used to, he knew. The entire thing confused him, however; why would James have wanted to venture out into this dry and dirty place when there was a sparkling clean Vault with light that didn't burn one's eyes out?

Feeling more confident, Jason stepped into the light, feeling the heat on his Vault suit. He felt very glad he had brought his baseball cap with him; having the sun shining down on the back of his neck would feel far too bizarre. Using his hand to shield his eyes from the distant blinding orb, he stepped outside, finally able to take a look around.

_The sky_! The sky was so big! How could anyone stand it? There was no end to it! No borders at all! Throughout his life, if Jason hadn't been able to see something, it was because something else blocked his view. The sight a horizon was completely new. The idea that something would be so far away that he could not see it… Mathematically and geometrically, it was a rule. It made sense, but it took a moment for his mind to adjust to the fact that the horizon was not simply a detailed painting some unknown character had dropped down before his eyes. It looked and felt like an optical illusion. He actually had to make an effort to stop himself from reaching out to grasp the distant spire of the Washington Monument.

A gust of wind blew a cloud of dust across his face. He felt the rough grains rasp across his soft skin. They went up his nose, coated his mouth and eyes, making him cough and tear up. He rubbed them, blinking furiously and spitting curses. He moved a little further back into the cave, trying to escape the dust devil. Once it had passed, he was able to take a second look, this time trying to ignore the boundless blue celestial sphere above his head.

He moved further down the path, halting at the top of a small, brown, shrub-encrusted cliff. The distant Washington Monument was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. As he adjusted, Jason realized that the grey morass surrounding it was in fact the crumbling, ruined city of Washington, D.C.. He could make out the husks of distant buildings, all empty shells with that bright blue sky shining through their upper windows. Nearer to him, at the foot of the cliff was a ruined town, the burnt, skeletal remains of houses were still standing, each property delineated by white picket fences, stirring echoes of the bright, cheerful pictures he had seen in the vault textbooks. He knew immediately that this was not the same world his ancestors had sealed themselves away from. Nor did it feel like a husk of that old world. It felt like a new one. An alien one. One rendered virtually unrecognizable by the last act of the human race. It was a cratered, filthy world painted in browns and greys and greens. The trees were tall, magnificent, and dead. Leafless and lifeless.

Directly in front of Jason, colored in a faded yet cheerful periwinkle blue, a testament to god's macabre sense of humor, was a sign. It said: Scenic Overlook.

Jason descended to the bottom of the cliff and stood on the broken asphalt. The road led south over a hill beyond which was the monolithic concrete remains of a broken overpass.

An enormous crater had broken the gray stretch of road. It was filled with a disgusting green liquid which upon very close inspection turned out to be water. Not despite his burgeoning thirst, Jason suspected that it would take several days of dehydration before he would dare drink it.

As he stuck his fingers in the viscous liquid, Jason heard his Pipboy give off a strange crackling noise. It took him a moment to realize that it was the old device's built-in Geiger counter. He quickly pulled his hand out, and the crackle faded. Yet the indicator of the device's small Geiger Counter told him that he had become slightly irradiated. He suddenly felt… tarnished. Unclean. A desire to rid himself of the foul radiation overtook him. But there was nothing he could immediately do about it. He'd have to find supplies.

Jason started up the road, deciding that properly orienting himself should be his first priority. His Pipboy's compass provided vague directions, but he needed something more concrete if he were to find a source of food and water .Not to mention Rad-away. He ascended the southern slope, circling to the right, trying to find the path to higher ground. As he walked, he passing the rusted-out frames of ruined cars. He took care to stay on the cracked asphalt path for as long as it lasted, feeling dubious about straying too far from the remains of civilization, twisted and degraded as they were.

As he reached the broken overpass, he heard a sudden unfamiliar growling, and turned. Two wild animals were approaching him, barreling down the grassy knoll at incredible speeds. They were thin animals. Irradiated. Starved, with thin, ragged patches of fur painted onto blotchy, cracked brown skin. Streams of drool dripped form their open mouths, and they eyed him with crazed hunger their ears flattened against their skulls. There was no mistaking their intent.

Adrenaline pumping through his worn-out system, Jason scampered madly for the nearest rock, scrambling up the rough surface. The rabid dogs reached him as he reached the summit. He heard their jaws clamp shut on empty air, inches from his feet. The sound of their broken claws scrabbling for purchase, gouging white scratches on the dust-covered surface, rose above their impotent, demanding barks. Jason drew his knees up, huddling at the top of his precarious sanctuary. It had been a mistake to go south. He should have gone north, into the small town at the foot of the hill. Stay near civilization!

The dogs circled, trying to find a way up to him, barking in frustration. Jason found it hard to keep his eyes off of their yellow teeth and strong, fast, vice-like jaws. One of the animals gained a foothold, it's claws catching on a smell crevice. It launched itself at him, snapping blindly. Jason kicked out, nearly losing his balance. His heel caught the dog's shoulder, sending it tumbling back down to the base of the rock. He got to his feet and pulled out his baseball bat as it launched itself once again. He brought the heavy wooden bat down on the creature's head, hearing a repulsive crack.

The animal crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Its companion only renewed its own efforts to reach him. Perhaps it was just Jason's imagination, but the second hound seemed suddenly bent on vengeance. It began to take long, bounding leaps, each time making it further up the rock. Jason watched it for a moment trying to time the beast's movements, and then swung. His back caught the thing awkwardly across the bottom jaw. It yelped and crashed to the ground, vanishing south in a cloud of dust. Jason slid down the rock on his bum and took off in the opposite direction. Northward to the ruined town. To civilization, and to safety.

* * *

**I've torn into a few different authors for this scene, and now that I've attempted to write it myself, I offer an apology to all of you. The moment when he takes his first step outside the vault is among the most important in the entire story! I'm also dubbing it impossible to get right. Certainly beyond my meager capabilities. The best one can hope for is to get a passing grade.**

**What would sunlight feel like to someone who had never been exposed to it before?**

**What would it feel like to first see the sky? And the horizon? I doubt any amount of descriptive capabilities can truly encompass that. But here's my best shot. I tried to bring back the memories of summer days when I was a kid. The heat was sweltering, and it honestly felt like the light had weight to it.**


	5. Chapter 5

Genesis 5

The Harsh sun beat down on the back of Jason's neck as he wandered through the ruined town of Springvale. There wasn't that much left. Scorched, skeletal timbers told him where the homes use to be. Rubble had replaced the floors, and he could make out the dented shapes of ruined furniture and appliances including refrigerators. He opened as many of them as he could find, but came up with nothing more than booze and ancient snack foods. He did find two bottles of purified water, one of which he drank up greedily. His forced expulsion from the Vault, and subsequent adventure with the hound had resulted in plenty of sweat.

While the vault suit was made of hardy leather material, designed to last and endure plenty of punishment, it was absolutely stuffy, nigh unbearable in the sweltering sunlight. Jason could feel the rivulets of sweat pouring down his back. That was worrying. Dehydration would be an issue. He had to find a more reliable source of clean water.

A few battered mailboxes were still standing, and the street was dotted with ruined vehicles. Their reactors were still intact, and that was worrying. He checked his Pipboy's Geiger counter, but it wasn't sensing any danger. Jason suddenly felt very thankful that Stanley had given him the old 3000 model. The old mechanic had said that they were hardy machines, and Jason knew that if he were to survive, he'd need the Geiger counter. The map function would also be a useful tool, come to think of it…

He took shelter on the front steps of the nearest house and activated his Pipboy. He spent a fair amount of time playing with the map function, learning the controls. He had never used it before, and had been mildly surprised to find that a map of the general D.C. area already existed. Markers were available, and he added one in for the Vault entrance. Just for future reference, and to give himself an idea of scale and distance. He also added one for Sunnydale, exactly where he was currently seated.

As he worked, he began to hear music. A static-infused flute whistling cheerfully through the parched afternoon air. He drew himself further into the building, hiding behind the crumbled remains of a wall. He readied his pistol, preparing for the worst.

Sunlight gleamed off a large, spherical metal orb, strewn with antennas. It floated past at about head-height, the tune emanating from its tinny speakers. The song was a military march, very different from the soft jazz of the Vault. Yet it was cheerful and comforting. If the robot sensed Jason's presence, it gave no notice, and continued on its merry way, turned right at a fork in the road, and disappearing behind the ruined buildings. The entire episode was bizarre and surreal, and for the first time since he'd been woken up that morning, Jason found himself smiling.

He spent the rest of the afternoon rummaging through every container he could find, and by the time the sun began to set, he was standing at the entrance to the Vault tunnel, arms full of supplies. Old-world food and a few medical supplies. Some more Stimpaks, and a disturbing amount of drugs. The prize of his collection, however, was a set of bobby pins. They regretfully brought to mind his younger teenage years in the Vault, breaking into the lower levels for a quiet place to read the racier kind of magazines. The particular pack he had recovered from a briefcase had contained six of the bobby pins, which Jason had put to good use, unlocking cupboards and dressers. He had found an old set of pre-war clothes, and had ripped it to pieces, fashioning an impromptu sunshade for the back of his neck, which he had fastened on under his baseball cap. The rest of the clothing had been tied together into a makeshift bindle, which he carried about slung over the back end of his baseball bat.

Another noted find, which reassured him greatly, was a large sign underneath a Red Rocket fuel station. It sat on thin metal rods which had been driven deep into the dirt. The sign itself was a large, curved piece of corrugated metal, standing up to chest-height, and as wide as a car. The name Megaton had been painted in thick yellow letters, as well as an arrow pointing in the right direction. To Jason in his tenuous position, it was reassuring to say the least. A sign that there were other humans around. Perhaps even close by.

He had taken some time to decide whether or not to follow the sign. He had no doubt that his father had, but he also had no idea how far this 'Megaton' was from his safe-haven. Probably not very far. But he decided to err on the side of caution, and gather more supplies before setting out for the post-war town.

As he settled down at the vault entrance, preparing to crack open a box of dried noodles, he notice the changed sky. He had been hard at work, and the changes were subtle, and had taken a long time to come about. But now…

Majestic colors. Colors he'd never seen before. They shone with such _intensity_!

Jason dropped his supplies and raced up the path, past the gunk-filled crater. The body of the hound was still lying at the base of the rock, but he ignored it, climbing higher and higher above the vault entrance until he came to a broken stretch of overpass. It had fallen on the hill at an angle, and jutted out over the landscape, providing an unrivalled view of the sky. He stared. Oranges and reds… The bottoms of the meager clouds had been lit in brilliant shades of purple, pink, and blue. Mixed with the subtler browns and grays of the landscape, the world had crystallized into a kaleidoscopic, polychromatic painting. Jason found himself dumbstruck. The marbled sky had caught him in awe, and held him there. He could feel his heart life at the incredible sight. He felt cleansed. Renewed. At that moment, despite everything else about his position, he was thankful that he had the privilege to bear witness to the masterpiece, and resolved to watch every sunset he possibly could for as long as he was able.

* * *

He spent that night in the Vault tunnel. Sleep was elusive, especially considering that on the other side of the door was all the comforts of home. They may as well have been on the far side of the moon for all the good it did him. The darkness disturbed him greatly, and he activated his Pipboy, its glow a thin and depressing echo of the bright bedside lamps. His other issue was the temperature. Just as the day was hot, the night was cold. He had never appreciated the warmth of thick blankets as he did that lonely night.

As he sat in the darkness, he could hear the distant howls of the hounds, and wondered how the injured one was faring. Not that he held much sympathy for it; it had tried to kill him after all. They began to grow closer, and he carefully flicked off his Pipboy's light. He walked to the entrance and carefully wedged a few rocks in certain places, effectively locking it shut. The last thing he wanted was some creature to maul him on his first night outside. He wondered where his father was, and if the man was safe.

At last, despite his worried musings, his mind gave up. He had expended far too much energy in the escape to _not _drift off to sleep.

* * *

The following morning found him stiff and cold. Predawn light shone through the cracks in the tunnel entrance's cover. Jason rose and dusted himself off. He stamped his feet together and glared at the enormous, immobile Vault door. He gathered his supplies and set his bindle over his shoulder.

The moment he stepped outside, he knew that the sky was going to be lit up just the way it had been the previous evening. He took his time, trudging up the nearly familiar path to the broken overpass. He moved cautiously. The previous night had informed him that at least three more hounds were somewhere in the area, and he didn't fancy getting caught.

He ate breakfast while watching the cleansing sunrise. Between the two of them, he favored the sunset's more vibrant colors, but there was something peaceful about the sunrise. It was more calm. Not as…angry. And it affected him enough that he barely noticed the taste of the dried noodles he was devouring.

* * *

Jason set off around ten o'clock. He found the Red Rocket fuel station and followed the Megaton sign southeast up a broken highway. It led to a second sign, just around a curve in the road. It was pointing straight to a wall of corroded sheet metal, visible in the middle-distance. Wires hung from several of the highest peaks of the wall, and at the center was what looked very much like an old aircraft engine. The assembly was man-made, and Jason realized, to his shame, that it had been over a hill the entire time. It was probably visible from the plateau beyond the vault entrance, if he'd bothered to recognize it.

He felt a surge of anger. It had been _so close_! Perhaps his father had been there only last night. What if he'd missed James by only a few hours? Prudence and caution were well and good when they proved to be the right course of action, but now?

Jason stumbled blindly across the rough terrain, picking up speed as he neared the settlement. He paused a moment, coming upon the corpse of an enormous ant, the likes of which he'd never seen. It was a hideous creature with a disgusting red and brown carapace, giant insectoid eyes, and pincers big enough to grip the torso of a grown man. One of its eyes had been blown out by a well-aimed gunshot, and the foul-smelling ichor had seeped down the side of its head and dried on the ground below. It had been dead for several days, and the stench of its corpse, decomposing in the hot sun, was unbearable.

Jason held a hand across his mouth and stumbled onwards, reaching the sloped walls of the city. The name Megaton had been painted on a piece of sheet metal. As he approached, he heard someone shouting from above. There was a mechanical whine, and he realized that the mounted aircraft propeller had begun to spin. The two largest pieces of sheet metal shuddered, and slid aside.

"Welcome to Megaton." A robotic voice called. Jason looked to his right. A robot was standing guard at the entrance. It was dark in colour, with a vaguely conical body perched atop two stocky legs. "Have a nice visit, partner." It proclaimed.

"Thanks…" Jason stepped through the arching entrance, giving the machine a wide berth.

Before he could step through the set of inner doors, he was waylaid once again. A man seemed to rise up out of the sand itself. He was wearing rags. Threadbare constructs. Combinations of pre-war fabrics and post-war patching. His face was unforgivably dirty, with an unkempt beard, sunburned cheeks, and sunken, beaten eyes. Jason found himself reflexively backing away, but he straightened up; this was the first person he had ever met from the outside world, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to make a good impression.

The man seemed more interested in Jason's makeshift bindle.

"Thank god!" he said in a rasping voice, "Someone new! I need water. Please! Water!" He seemed almost frantic, and Jason wondered for a moment whether or not he'd have to put his baseball bat to use. He hoped not.

"What do you need water for?"

"To drink!" the man said, pointing at the doors furiously. "They have plenty of water in there, but they only give it to residents… or people who can pay for it."

Jason hesitated. He did wait a few seconds, trying to weigh the pros and cons. Eventually he settled on doing what he thought his father would have done, and he shared a bottle of fresh water with the man. Then he proceeded through the tall doors, and into the only known human settlement around.

* * *

**Is there any way to fix the spell-checker? It keeps on switching my words to the American spellings. There's nothing particularly wrong with that, but it bugs me because I'm Canadian, and used to putting 'U's in everything.**

**I hope I did justice to the sunrise and sunsets. I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've ever written a full chapter with almost no dialogue in it. It's strangely liberating. **

**Next chapter is Megaton. Expect Burke. Maybe Moira. I dunno.**


End file.
